Red
by IAlwaysBringBackup
Summary: One-Shot. Alex visits Jack's grave. Meant to fit in with the events of Scorpia Rising, but could be considered AU.


**Hey guys! Thanks to everyone who reviewed my first One-Shot, History Repeats. I will be trying to expand it into a story later, as I'm pretty busy at the moment. It took a week to write this One-Shot! Please bear in mind that the last time I read Scorpia Rising was about a year ago, so I'm not too sure what actually happened to Jack's body (or if what was left of it after the explosion could be buried). Also, I looked it up, but couldn't find anything about Jack's DOB or the date she died, so I took a bit of a guess.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider. **

* * *

**Red**

The gate swung open quietly on its well-oiled hinges. The lone figure that slipped through wondered about the lack of sound. The hinges should be rusty and groan in protest when they were forced to move. It wasn't like the people inside would use or look after the gate.

For all the people inside it were dead.

Alex Rider gingerly stepped into the cemetery, leaving the gate to swing back silently behind him. His feet made a slight crunching noise on the cold, grey gravel. He didn't like the sound. Noise drew attention to oneself, and as an ex spy, Alex knew that attention was something to be avoided. The noise also made him feel like a disturbance to this quiet resting place. Nervously, the teen fidgeted with the single red rose he held loosely in his hand.

It was red like her hair had been.

Like her favourite lipstick.

Like the flames of a _fire_. (_Dancing across the desert's night sky, twisting up from the wreckage of a still burning car…_).

Alex's hand tightened around the lone red flower. It had been _her_ favourite colour. She once said it represented love, joy and courage. It was ironic, really. An explosion. Her favourite colour would have been the last thing she saw before she died.

Alex hated the colour. Love, joy and courage were lies. Red stood for blood and death.

The teen continued through the cemetery, ignoring the tiny thorns which dug into the palm of his hand where it had tightened around the flower. A bit of blood flowed out of his hand as a result, but Alex didn't care. Red led to more red, blood to more blood, pain to more pain. It was an unbreakable, never-ending chain of agony and hurt.

He walked off the gravel onto a patch of grass, causing the crunching noise his shoes made to be abruptly cut off. The cemetery remained silent as he walked between crumbling gravestones. It seemed to be holding its breath, watching him. Would he make it, this time? Could he visit her grave, when he was the one who sent her there? Had he trapped her in a wooden prison underneath the ground until the end of time?

Alex growled. He had come here several times, but never managed to make it to where she lay. He couldn't face her. Couldn't face what he had caused. _("I did this! If I stopped her from coming with me, she would never have been captured. But I didn't and she was, so she tried to escape and now she's dead!")._

But he would, this time. He would do it for her.

Alex cautiously walked past a shimmering pond, around a tree, and there it was. A small, smiling statue of an angel with its stone wings spread out as if in flight. The figurine stood proudly atop a simple grey headstone.

_Always Remembered_

_Jack Starbright_

_1983-2011_

_What seems to us a sunset  
is a sunrise in another land._

Alex laughed bitterly at the sight of it. It was sad, really. Jack had been the closest thing to a real angel in this world. Her personality was made of starlight, laughter and forgiveness; friendship, mercy and smiles. Alex hadn't chosen the figurine, and he now eyed it with distaste. How twisted that all she had once been was now represented by an uncaring piece of rock.

"Sorry, Jack." Alex spoke softly as he approached his guardian's final resting place. She had been a sister and a mother to him. But, more importantly, she had been his best friend. Someone who believed him when no one else would. The person who picked up all the pieces when he fell apart. And now, she lay in the ground, as lifeless as the stone angel which marked her grave.

Had he really created this?

She wouldn't be here if she hadn't cared so much for him. If only she hadn't tried to escape and go for help. If only her chosen escape vehicle hadn't been wired with a bomb. If only he hadn't underestimated his enemies. If only it hadn't been a trap.

If only…She hadn't died.

In his head, Alex silently cursed. It didn't feel right to swear out loud in a cemetery. Where had he gone wrong? Spying was his game, not hers, and he knew the rules. She should never have gone with him to Egypt. He should have convinced her to stay at home. Looking back now, he could see where he went wrong. Hindsight was such a bittersweet, agonising thing. It allowed one to learn from their mistakes, but never fix them.

Alex ran a hand through his hair, numbly. The inscription, the stone angel, the grave…it drove home just how final Jack's death was. She was truly gone forever and would never be coming back.

"Thanks for…everything. For who you were and all your help and love and friendship… everything… I'll always miss you… Goodbye, Jack." He approached the grave and gently placed the crimson rose in the stone angel's hands. This was it. With a final bow of the head, Alex stood from where he had kneeled beside the grave and turned to go.

A small tear ran down the side of his face. He never really cried-being a spy gave you little time to think about anything other than the mission at hand. But Jack was worth shedding tears over. The whole world should be silent in grief and weeping a river for the person it had lost.

"Love you." He choked out, wiping away the tear. Although a small part of him had been silently hoping for it, there was no familiar reply of "Love you too." He sighed, feeling stupid. It wasn't like she could actually hear him.

But, as if in response, the tree behind him rustled gently in a small breath of wind. A ripple travelled peacefully across the clear pond. And as he left, Alex could feel a familiar, smiling angel watching him.

But unlike the statue, this angel wasn't made of stone.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism welcome! (I don't bite!) :)**

**Edit update: Thanks to Scooterstripes for pointing out a grammar error :) your feedback was much appreciated! **


End file.
